The alleys of Slaughter City never slept. Somewhere distant, the echo of a woman's scream cut off into silence. Somewhere closer, a bottle shattered, followed by coarse laughter.
Gu Kuangren's boots struck the cobblestones with slow, deliberate rhythm. His crimson eyes scanned the shadows, though his posture was loose, unhurried.
He felt them before he saw them.
Predators.
The air grew heavy, thick with intent. Footsteps too soft to belong to drunks. Breathing too measured to belong to beggars. The city itself seemed to hold its breath.
Kuangren smiled faintly, his hand flexing at his side.
"Finally."
The first moved too soon.
A shadow detached from the rooftop, dropping behind him with a knife glinting faintly in the dim torchlight. The blade slashed for his spine.
Kuangren didn't turn. His hand snapped back, catching the attacker's wrist in an iron grip. Bone cracked beneath his fingers. The man's scream tore through the night, cut short when Kuangren twisted sharply, snapping the arm backward at an unnatural angle.
The knife clattered to the stones. Kuangren bent low, scooping it up even as the man staggered. Without pause, he drove the blade upward, straight through the man's throat.
Blood sprayed hot against his cheek. He inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth, the copper tang.
The body fell, twitching. Kuangren licked his lips.
"One."
The others did not wait.
Figures surged from the shadows — four, maybe five. Knives, short swords, jagged clubs. Their faces were half-hidden by rags, eyes gleaming with hunger and hate.
Kuangren stood tall, crimson eyes burning, long black hair shifting as he turned toward them.
"Come, then," he growled, his grin widening. "Feed me."
They rushed him.
The first swung a club toward his ribs. Kuangren twisted, the weapon grazing his side. Pain bloomed, sharp and hot, but it only widened his grin. His fist crashed into the man's jaw, bone shattering, teeth flying. Before the body hit the ground, Kuangren wrenched the club from limp fingers and smashed it down across the skull.
The crunch echoed through the alley.
"Two."
Another lunged from the side, twin knives flashing. Kuangren pivoted, the club rising to parry the first strike. The second carved across his arm, opening flesh. Blood welled hot and fast.
His crimson eyes flared, breath sharp.
Pain. Yes. Perfect.
He seized the attacker's wrist, slamming his forehead forward. The crack of bone rang out as the man's nose collapsed. Kuangren twisted, ripping the knives free, then buried both into the man's chest.
Warmth gushed over his hands. The man's eyes widened, lips trembling as life fled.
Kuangren leaned close, whispering against his ear.
"Three."
He shoved the body away, laughing low in his throat as it crumpled.
Two remained.
These were smarter — they circled, one holding a battered sword, the other a hooked chain. Their movements were coordinated, practiced. These weren't mere scavengers. Killers, like him.
Kuangren's grin sharpened. His breath came quick, almost trembling with anticipation.
The one with the sword struck first, blade whistling for Kuangren's neck. At the same instant, the chain lashed out, the hook clanging against the cobbles as it sought his legs.
Kuangren moved.
He ducked the blade by a hair, the chain coiling around his ankle. Pain seared as the hook bit through skin. He staggered — and laughed, crimson eyes blazing brighter.
The swordsman pressed the attack, steel flashing again.
Kuangren wrenched hard, dragging the chain-holder off balance. In the same motion, he surged forward, meeting the swordsman chest-to-chest. The blade carved a deep gash across his shoulder, but his massive hand clamped down on the man's throat.
With a roar, he lifted him clear off the ground.
The chain yanked again, digging deeper. Kuangren ignored it, squeezing. The swordsman kicked, clawed, eyes bulging. Kuangren's grin split wider as the man's face turned purple, veins bulging.
The sound came at last — a wet, sharp crack. The body went limp. Kuangren tossed it aside like refuse.
"Four."
The last one faltered. His hands shook on the chain, eyes darting between Kuangren's bloodied frame and the bodies littering the alley.
Kuangren turned toward him, dragging the hooked chain from his ankle, flesh tearing. He didn't flinch. He only grinned, crimson eyes burning like fire in the dark.
The man stumbled back.
"No—no, stay back—"
Kuangren stalked forward slowly, each step heavy, deliberate. He swung the chain once, letting the hook clang against the stones, sparks flashing.
"Five," he whispered, voice low, hungry.
The man broke. He turned to flee, sprinting down the alley.
Kuangren's arm snapped forward. The chain whipped through the air, the hook latching into the man's back with a wet thud. The scream was shrill, panicked, echoing.
Kuangren yanked.
The man flew backward, crashing to the cobbles at Kuangren's feet. Blood streamed from the wound, soaking into the stones.
Kuangren crouched low, crimson eyes boring into the man's.
The pleading, the terror — it fed him.
Slowly, deliberately, he drove the hook deeper, twisting it, savoring the screams.
When at last the voice broke into silence, Kuangren rose, blood dripping from his hands, his chest heaving with exhilaration.
"Five."
High above, hidden in shadow, Zhu Zhuqing crouched on the rooftop. Her golden eyes glowed faintly, wide, unblinking.
She had seen killers before. She had killed herself. But never like this.
Never someone who didn't just survive the kill.
But reveled in it.
Her heart pounded, not with fear — but with something else she couldn't name.
And though every instinct told her to turn away, to flee, she found her gaze locked on him, her body frozen in place.
Gu Kuangren stood in the alley, drenched in blood, his grin sharp, crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
She whispered his name under her breath, barely audible.
"…Gu Kuangren."